Page 17 of Bred By the Minotaur (DreamTogether Breeding Program #3)

Milo approaches uneasily, his hands tucked behind his back. “I’m Milo.” He keeps his eyes on the floor, standing very close to me. I didn’t realize he had this tentative, shy side because he’s never showed it to me before. “My dad is Hank.”

Sandra smiles a friendly smile and offers him a seat on the couch while she eats her dinner.

She’s sweet as she asks him questions about himself, what he likes to do, how he’s enjoying kindergarten.

Slowly he opens up, and by the end of our visit, he’s bouncing around the living room telling Sandra all about Darla.

And I love getting to spend this kind of time with him. He can be too chatty sometimes, but it’s cute, like a little train that can’t stop moving no matter what gets in the way. He has a creative mind, always dreaming up silly stories about his drawings.

I’m actually quite sad when Hank’s mother gets home from the airport and heads over to the house to see Milo. I was enjoying our time, just the two of us. And Hank’s still at work, so I’m nervous about meeting her by myself.

What does she think of me? I work at DreamTogether. She knows purely by Milo’s existence who I am to Hank, and who he is to me.

Embarrassing.

Milo and I are in the living room watching a cartoon when the door opens, and a singsong voice calls out, “Milo, I’m back!”

Milo leaps off the couch and sprints to the front door. “Grandma!”

I follow him into the entryway, where he’s clutching her legs and hugging her.

Unlike Hank, who’s splotched all over, his mother is mostly brown with only a few small spots of white on her nose and hands.

She’s graying around her mouth and cheeks, as well as in her brown hair.

Her horns are much smaller, and she’s dressed in a tropical skirt and blouse.

“How was the Bahama-mamas?” asks Milo, finally releasing her.

“Warm,” she says. “Very warm. Grandma had lots and lots of mojitos.”

“Mowi-what?”

She just grins down at him. “Grandma had a good time.”

When at last her eyes meet mine, I offer her a small wave. “Hi, I’m Phoebe.”

She smirks. “I know. Hey, Milo? Why don’t you go grab your latest drawings to show me?”

He bounces on his hooves. “Yeah!” Then he runs off up the stairs.

“Thank you for watching him while I was gone,” Hank’s mother says, offering me her hand. “I’m Imelda, by the way.”

I shake it. “It’s good to meet you.”

We walk into the living room together, where she gestures for me to take a seat. “I heard there was a kerfuffle with the nanny. I’m glad you were there to step in.”

I have to laugh. “Because you put my name on the fridge!”

Imelda winks just as Milo comes barreling into the room again, a bunch of papers clutched in his hands. He spreads them out on the coffee table in front of his grandmother and starts showing off his new version of Darla as Spiderman’s cat.

“Oh, wow, this is good, Milo,” she says, and she’s not just doing kid-sweet-talk voice.

“Phoebe showed me how to do it!” he exclaims. “She’s really good at drawing.”

Imelda shoots me a curious look. “Is she?”

“I’m a graphic artist and designer,” I say. “It’s what I do all day.”

“I see. What about DreamTogether?”

I bite my lip, because I don’t want to talk about this in front of Milo.

He glances up at me. “What’s that?”

“It’s my other job,” I say quickly. “It’s, um, how I met your dad.”

Before he can ask more questions, Imelda stands up. “All right, Milo. Time to get ready for bed. Have you had a bath yet?”

I cringe. I haven’t really given his hygiene as much thought as I should.

He pouts as he says, “No.”

“Then go on upstairs and I’ll start the water.”

Milo stalks away, clearly displeased with this turn of events. “Phoebe was way more fun,” he mutters.

I get up, too, and head to the kitchen to pack up my things.

“Stay as long as you want,” Imelda says, but now that she’s back... there’s no reason for me to be here.

“That’s okay. I have to go check on my sister.” I sling my bag over my shoulder. “It was fun.”

“Maybe you can watch him again,” Imelda says as I head to the door. “I could use a break sometimes, and he clearly likes you.”

I hover with my hand on the knob. I would love to spend more time with Milo, and especially with Milo and Hank.

“Maybe you should reconsider the offer about the spare room,” Imelda goes on. “I think it would be really good for Milo to have you around. I know Hank won’t do anything you don’t want to do.”

The way she says it, like there’s a world in which I would want to do things with Hank, makes my skin warm.

It might also be torture to have to see him day in and day out, and not try to think about how well he took me on the breeding bench—and what it would be like to do it again, maybe even on that big bed of his in that dark bedroom.

Imelda flashes me a look like she knows exactly what I’m thinking.

“I really shouldn’t—” I begin.

“Oh, stop it,” she says, batting a hand. “It’s not doing you any good sleeping on a couch every night when there’s a perfectly good room with a bed here.”

Without waiting for my answer, she ushers me out the door.

“Goodnight,” I tell her.

“Call Hank tomorrow,” she says in answer. Then she shuts it behind me.